


The Arrogant Wizard

by bardbrat



Series: Fantasy Spanking [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Fantasy, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Public Humiliation, Spanking, Switching, is something i enjoy, magically administered punishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:33:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29136351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bardbrat/pseuds/bardbrat
Summary: A little too full of his own importance, a young wizard in training is taught that he is not, in fact, above everyone else. M/M spanking, fantasy setting.
Series: Fantasy Spanking [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838410
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	The Arrogant Wizard

**Author's Note:**

> My attempt at a story in a "magical college" setting, in a somewhat-modern time frame. I didn't want to get overly detailed and didn't want it to feel too much like HP, so hopefully there isn't a glaring abundance of similarities. Thank you for reading! Feedback is welcomed.

"Did you finish the assignment?"

The nervous voice was irritating to Smith, and he promptly turned to glare at the little fellow to his right. Marten had always rather reminded him of an owl, with pale feathery hair and huge eyes peering over the edge of the half-moon glasses he wore, and this time was no different, especially as Marten blinked very slowly at his annoyed expression.

"No. Why should I?" Smith stretched his legs out in front of him, sprawled comfortably in his desk chair as he waited for the rest of the class to assemble. He had been early, but that was mere coincidence, having been wandering down the hall anyway and allowing himself to be herded into the Wand Magic classroom by an overly anxious Marten.

"Because!" Marten squeaked, obviously horrified. "The professor said you had best do it this time, or else-"

"Or else what?" Smith glared Marten into silence for the moment, then released a dramatic sigh. "Stop. It was my choice, and I made it, alright? I didn't feel like doing the assignment. Especially since he didn't say exactly what he would _do_." Perhaps it was mildly troubling, but not something to fret over endlessly the way Marten might have done. "I expect I'll have to write some lines or serve a detention or three to make up for all my missing work. I don't care about that; it was going to happen soon anyway."

Marten shook his head grimly, his thin lips pressed together so tight they had almost disappeared, before finally opening his mouth again. "I don't know, Smith. I hope you're right. Professor Zeph is so..."

"Dull," Smith promptly finished with a wide smirk. And he certainly was. The professor was a wizard of some repute, though he tended toward the archaic side of the magical arts, which did make sense considering he was thousands of years old. He was also very stern, with the habit of demanding silence and order in his classes, strict attendance, and the prompt performance of assignments when each class met. It might have seemed miraculous that Smith had made it this far without punishment, but it was no miracle. His great-great-grandparents had merely founded the college, and his name carried more than a little weight.

"Smith College of Arcane Arts" did not sound so very mystical, but that was the name it had been given. Wizards and witches received a more regular education up until the age of twenty, and then those with special promise were sent to the college. As for the young Smith, himself, he had certainly showed such promise. He only had problems with taking that seriously.

Marten seemed to have backed off, for now, face buried in one of his notebooks but still visibly twitching with nerves. In the meantime, Smith relaxed further and observed the rest of the students who had filed in to sit down.

Hulking Andr was there, barely fitting into his seat, loudly chatting with the person next to him. More like talking over everything they said. Andr had a booming voice to match his frame, and even his whispering sounded more like a regular conversation.

Jayn was scribbling in a notebook as usual. The scratch of her pen against paper could somehow still be heard even through Andr's voice. She was a talented artist as well as witch, with a genuine skill for capturing scenes straight from life, without using any magic at all. Smith could lean over just enough to see that she was drawing Professor Zeph, an almost perfect likeness, and he smirked to himself.

"Alright, class!" he suddenly called out, jumping from his chair with unusual energy. He strutted to the front of the room, wizard-regulation robes swirling around his feet, then stopped and turned to face the now-silent students with hands on his hips and his long, dark hair falling down over his narrow shoulders. "I hope you are ready to learn today. In other words, I hope you have all brought your pillows and blankets, it's going to be a long lesson!"

This performance was met with weak laughter and some scattered booing; Smith was not particularly popular with his reputation of shirking classwork and using his name to gain advantage every chance he could get. He frowned deeply in imitation of their professor and reached into the pocket of his robe. "Let's begin." Holding up the object he had pulled out, he twirled it between his fingers with at least some degree of skill. "Wands amplify magic. Everyone knows that. _However_. Watch as I levitate the wand without _using_ it."

He set the wand on Professor Zeph's desk. Wands were made uniformly the same, but the first person to use one for magical purposes was bound to it until it was destroyed. In other words, no one could draw on the source of magic within Smith's wand but himself. As all wands were, it was twelve inches long, smooth and slender, crafted of a rich mahogany wood that gleamed in even the dimmest light.

Smith stepped back, making a ridiculous show out of posing his arms and hands as though in some childish idea of the way magic was performed. It was actually as simple as focusing one's energies, being handled rather discreetly through mind and body, but he was attempting to entertain his fellow classmates. And they _did_ seem more enthused as the wand began to lift just slightly... then spun in a half-circle and clattered to the floor.

"I meant to do that," he said haughtily, now a little peeved by their amusement as he bent to pick up the wand.

"If you are done being foolish, Smith, I suggest you take your seat."

The sonorous voice of Professor Zeph droned over them all, and Smith did move to sit down, though not in any hurry. He kept an eye on the old wizard, who had walked in through the side door looking every inch the part of what he was. His hair and beard were both long and silver, and he wore a starry spangled robe of deep blue with silver trim. His stern, deep-set gaze swept over them all to count who was there, even if he was focusing on Smith more often than not.

"Forgot his pointy hat today," Smith whispered to Marten, who quickly shook his head as though to tell the other young man to be quiet.

It was too late for that, however, as the professor had honed in on Smith again. "Since you are so eager to talk and be a part of the class for once, Smith, why don't you stand up right now and perform the assignment you were given last week?" he said sharply, obsidian gaze boring into him.

Unconcerned, Smith did stand up, then promptly shrugged. "I didn't learn it in time."

Professor Zeph continued staring so hard that Smith could swear he was seeing right into his mind. It wasn't likely, but who knew the extent of powers available to a wizard Zeph's age? "Did not learn it in time. Hm. I believe that last week I said there would be consequences if you could not perform the assignment. Tell me, Smith, how many times have you not learned what you were bid? Come to class late? Not shown up at all? Were arrogant and disrespectful toward me?"

Smith pretended to be thinking very hard about the questions, then abruptly stared straight at Zeph with a challenging yet triumphant expression. "I don't know, sir. As many times as I felt like it."

There was a shocked gasp from a student near the back of the room, and Smith smiled smugly. He could do as he wanted, he always had. But rather than acting upset or telling him to sit back down, the wizard was looking somehow satisfied. The first icy trickle of concern ran through Smith's stomach.

"Very well, young man. Come and stand in front of the class. The rest of you are going to watch Smith receive his punishment today. My methods will seem rather archaic, if not faintly barbaric, but it is simply a part of history that I will be showing you, as wizards and witches were disciplined in this manner when I was much younger. Smith will bear no permanent harm, and I have been fully authorized to these actions."

Now Smith felt rooted in place, his stomach deciding to flip anxiously instead. "What is this about? Archaic discipline? _Barbaric_? Who has authorized you? You _know_ who I am!"

"Of course," Zeph replied coolly, unconcerned. "It will be explained in due time. Now come to the front of the room, or I will drag you by the ear."

Smith's mouth opened and then closed again, rather like a fish that was finding itself suddenly out of water. This sort of thing had never happened to him before! He was a _Smith_! Who could even give this old wizard the authority...!

Despite his clamoring thoughts, Smith marched himself resolutely to the front of the class, then turned to face everyone who was staring at him in silence. Someone would answer for this! His parents were not going to be pleased in the slightest, he felt certain.

"Oh, no. Face my desk, please. And then bend over it, so that everyone can have a decent view of this demonstration."

Smith's face was turning red as he began to work out what might be about to happen to him, and the whispers of his fellow students suggested they had done the same. He clenched his teeth in anger, turning slightly to face the professor. " _No_."

"Very well."

It was as though someone had taken control of Smith's body. He felt it turn, completely against his will, and shuffle the few steps remaining to the desk. Then he bent at the waist over the edge of it, leaving his backside upturned and plainly in the view of everyone else in the room. It felt safer that he was wearing trousers and a heavy robe, but he still did not like it one bit.

"Let me _up_! Curse you, old man, I did not agree to this!" Smith could not move anything but his fingers, as his arms had automatically reached across the desk and to the other edge; he gripped at it ineffectively, noting that he trembled with embarrassed anger.

"It is beyond your control now, Smith." The professor had come closer and reached toward the pocket of his robe, pulling out his wand and setting it on the desk beside him. "Watch your tongue when you address me, or this will be worse." Oddly, he walked away again, out of reach, before returning his attention to the class.

"Not only will you witness this discipline, but it will also at least partly be a demonstration of the assignment Smith failed to complete." The professor was not telling anyone to be quiet, though they had continued whispering among themselves. They immediately hushed when he said, "We shall begin."

Smith, in the meantime, was still seething. He could not move at all, could not stop anyone from looking. And he _knew_ they were staring at him, watching as closely as they could while the great-great-grandson of the college's founder was bent over his professor's desk to receive a richly-deserved punishment.

"Levitation of objects is simple, basic," Zeph was continuing. "A subject you all learned in primary school, at least with a wand. Levitation without a wand, of course, is another matter."

Smith was able to feel something moving up his legs and gave a horrified start when he realized it was his robe being lifted up with the aid of magic. "Stop, you can't-"

"Can, and will," the wizard said firmly. "I suggest you keep quiet, young man, as you will only cause yourself greater embarrassment."

Making an irritated noise of frustration, Smith could only wait as his robe was fully lifted, bunching up around the middle of his back, at least partially hiding his head from view. Then again, he imagined his backside was much more visibly defined without the robe covering his trousers, and indeed there were a few hushed whispers and giggles sounding out once more.

"The next part is not anything you will be taught to do; however, you already know that magic can be applied in a myriad of ways. Are you ready, Smith?"

" _Stop_ ," the younger wizard snarled, again trying to struggle, to absolutely no avail.

"I am afraid not," Zeph replied, almost sounding amused, _damn him_. "Then we will proceed with a dozen to start."

Not even fully knowing what he was waiting for, especially since the professor was not within reach of him, Smith was not prepared for the sudden burst of pain he felt directly across the center of his bottom. There had been no sound, no indication, but it _felt_ as though a hand had slapped him hard. To be more accurate, the area it covered was too broad, indicating something more like a paddle instead. Having been thus surprised, he cried out loudly, out of proportion to the actual pain.

The next blow came so quickly that he cried out again, embarrassed that he was doing so but unable to help it. Turning his head as best he could, he could see nothing behind him except the fascinated faces of his fellow students. That made him turn around again as quickly as he could.

"His trousers _moved_ a little, somehow," he could hear Andr whisper, though of course, he might as well have shouted for all the good it did. "Like something hit him..."

Smith gritted his teeth but ended up gasping as another swat connected, invisible and silent, though he could feel how his seat was beginning to warm. Halfway through the dozen, it was starting to burn.

"Holding up well so far, are we?" the wizard had the nerve to ask, causing Smith to spit an ineffectual curse in his direction. "Now, now. I did say mind your tongue. You will hold it until you are through taking your discipline."

On the verge of disobeying, Smith immediately cried out yet again. The invisible paddle had landed even harder against the seat of his trousers, and he abruptly thought what a strange sight he must be. He would not have been able to believe it himself if he had been the one watching someone else receive a silent, invisible spanking, the only indication it was real being the sounds of distress the offender made.

And Smith _was_ still making noise. Now he gasped and cried out every time, the rhythm becoming faster as well, the swats more focused, alternating between each side. When at last it was over, the young wizard's head flopped forward, and he panted softly both from the pain and the absolute ache of humiliation he was feeling. Could it be any worse than this?

The answer was not long in coming, though Zeph allowed him to rest for mere moments as everyone had started to murmur again. Then he could feel movement at his waist and hear the obvious sound of his trousers being undone before they began to slide down.

"Professor Zeph!" Smith all but shouted, suddenly quite respectful indeed. "No, please, you can't do this in front of everyone, I promise I will do all of my assignments from now on! Early!"

His pleas had not seemed to have any effect on the elder wizard, but it did seem to have entertained the class, as he could hear distinct giggling. It was a mercy, at the very least, that his trousers were not lowered in a painfully slow fashion but pulled down to mid-thigh at a swifter rate now, and his underwear joined them a moment later. If Smith had thought he was embarrassed before, now his bare rump was on display in front of all his peers, and he could almost _feel_ the pressure of their eyes ogling him.

"It's actually red," Andr whisper-yelled. "Something was definitely hitting him!"

Smith let out a hiss between his teeth, now so embarrassed that he could say nothing at all. He could not move, could barely squirm, and only wanted to reach back and cover himself from view with both hands.

"And now, a further demonstration of the subject, which is the levitation of objects. You will be 'caned' with your own wand, Smith. Six strokes. Perhaps this will teach you a lesson, and in the future, you will do as you are told. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

With a pathetic whimper, Smith found the strength to object one more time. "You can't use my wand!"

Zeph sighed, as though deeply disappointed, and Smith felt the motion as the wand lifted itself into the air. "No, I cannot use your wand to aid my magic, but I can use my magic to move your wand, which was the point of the assignment. Was it not?"

"Yes?" Smith choked out shakily. The wand had moved into position behind him, hanging in midair until it pressed against the warm skin of his backside as though to aim the first stroke.

"Yes," Zeph said firmly, folding his arms. "Now, let us see if we can impress a few more things upon you."

Rather than the silence of the first half of the punishment, this half commenced with a sharp _swish_ as the wand cut through the air, then a solid _snap_ as the wooden length struck his bare bottom with force. Smith cried out anew, agonized by how much it hurt, still wanting to disbelieve this was happening at all. It was just a horrible nightmare, except-

_Swish. Snap._

No. It hurt too much to possibly be a dream! The second blow stung like a line of fire across his already hot flesh, and he almost missed the other sound he could now hear: Jayn's pen scribbling. She could _not_ be drawing this!

"Focus, Smith. You have four left."

The words settled him, strangely enough, but did little to protect against the sharp blossoming pain across his backside a third time. The wand was being swung expertly, most likely leaving precise, even marks over both buttocks, brighter red lines against the blush that was already there. Smith hung his head in despair, the shame nearly overcoming him by this point. Like it or not, he was definitely learning a lesson.

The last three he took with what dignity he could, though he still cried out every time his wand whipped against his backside. Trembling, he listened to the whispers that were still occurring, barely realizing that Professor Zeph had moved near.

"They cannot hear me right now," the older man said, making Smith jerk his head up. "But you asked about the authority given to me. I have been in contact with your parents, and they are very disappointed with your progress here. I was given permission to make an example of you; I think I have succeeded in that. I don't want to repeat this example, so I suggest you improve yourself so that I do not have to."

Smith's mind reeled with this information, but at last he gave a weak nod, the fight totally gone out of him. "I will, sir," he whimpered softly. "I am _sorry_."

Zeph said nothing else, but Smith found his underpants and trousers quickly being raised over his throbbing backside, and his robe sliding back down over his legs before he suddenly could move again. Shamefaced, he kept his eyes firmly on the floor and started to move toward his desk, though the professor's voice made him freeze in place.

"Class is dismissed for the day," he said calmly. "I believe that is quite enough for you all to learn, and you will be able to perform admirably next week."

The students were surprised but obviously pleased, and they all gave Smith glances as they sidled out, some of them not bothering to hide their amused or shocked conversations regarding his public spanking. He waited until they were almost all gone, then ducked out into the hallway and the press of bodies currently sweeping along to a different class. Then he was alone when he turned into a side corridor that would indirectly lead back to his room, pausing to take several deep breaths.

"Smith? Are you alright?"

Marten had appeared from nowhere, a faint blush on his owlish face and his glasses nearly sliding off his nose. Smith glared, then wilted. "I'm fine." He strode off down the corridor purposefully, but Marten's shorter legs scampered to keep up.

"You... Are you sure? I mean, your b-bottom," Marten stammered, clearly also embarrassed to need to draw attention to it.

" _Yes_ , you dolt, I'm-" Smith stopped, disregarding the other young man's presence as he ran a hand over the back of his robe. "Actually, it doesn't hurt that much at all now. It stings, but..."

Had Professor Zeph soothed the pain somehow? He had said there would be no lasting damage. But it had definitely hurt him at the time, and there was the lingering memory of being exposed in front of others, punished like some disobedient boy and not a young, talented wizard. That was probably more effective than the pain.

Smith turned away from Marten and strode off again, though he did not protest when the smaller man continued to follow. "Everyone will forget that soon enough, right?"

"I-I don't know," Marten muttered. "Jayn did a really nice drawing, and I'm pretty sure Andr was talking about making copies..."

Smith sighed and suppressed the urge to curse again, instead just walking faster. He had to get to his room because there was studying to do. If he could have any say in it, the punishment would not need repeating.


End file.
